


Dragonborn

by RayMan225



Series: Dragonborn [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, Fantasy, Gen, Magic, Medieval, Skyrim - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:45:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4821044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayMan225/pseuds/RayMan225
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My own reimagination of the events and story of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Please note, though I try my best to research every bit of history and lore, there are things I either don't understand at all or would rather make small creative liberty changes to. If you can't tell which is which, well... sometimes neither can I.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragonborn

The sharp, rhythmic clopping of horse hooves against cobbled stone combined with the jerking and rocking of an uneven path stirred the girl from her unconsciousness. Her ear twitched as she contorted her face into a wince of pain, trying to bring her hand up to rub the back of her head, only to find she was restrained at the wrists by rope. She lifted her head and blinked hard, the grogginess blurring her vision and making her dizzy. The only figures she could make out were three other people near her and they were moving on a horse drawn cart.

 

“Hey, you, cat, finally awake?” The figure directly in front of her spoke in a heavy Nordic accent. “You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, hm?”  Her focus began to return as she looked upon the man; muscular build, long, blond, dirty hair, sunken eyes and light, dark colored facial scruff. “Just like us, and that _thief_ over there,” He turned his head and motioned to a man sitting beside him, another Nord with dark brown hair and a broad forehead.

 

“Damn you Stormcloaks!” The man spat, “Skyrim was fine without you, Empire around here was nice and lazy. Weren’t for you rebels I could’ve got that horse and ‘been halfway to Hammerfell by now!” His eyes met with hers and flashed with desperation. “You there, cat, you and me, we don’t belong with these rebels! We’re innocent to this war!”

 

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” The blond man retorted.

 

“Shut up back there!” A man sitting in the front of the cart yelled sharply.

 

After a short moment of silence the man spoke again. “Of course, a near empty statement when we don’t even know each other’s names. Mine is Ralof.” The blond man said, turning his attention back to her. “Yours?”

 

She cleared her dry throat, her mouth felt like a desert as her lips parted. “Katia,” She shifted her bound hands uncomfortably as she spoke, the rope was beginning to cut into her wrist, “M-my name is Katia…”

 

“Lokir,” Said the dark haired one, “What about this guy?” He gestured to the third man sitting to Katia’s right, sticking out amongst them by wearing an ornate black furred cloak and clothed in fine materials, contrasting against the three’s rags. “Why’s he gagged like that?” The man turned his head to glance at Ralof and Katia noticed that he was indeed gagged with a dirty rag.

 

“Watch your tongue!” Ralof barked, suddenly becoming aggressive, “You are speaking about Ulfric Stormcloak, the _true_ high king!”

 

“U-ulfric, leader of the Stormcloaks…” Lokir’s eyes widened and his skin paled, “If we’re paired with you then- oh Gods, what are they planning to do with us!?”

 

“Don’t know where we’re going next,” Ralof stared ahead down the road, “But Sovengarde awaits us…” He glanced over at Katia but couldn’t seem to meet her eyes, “Well, perhaps not all of us…”

 

Her heart sank into her stomach as the reality of her situation finally dawned on her; bludgeoned over the head, tied up like a prisoner alongside a petty thief and two rebels against the Empire. Only one certainty floated to the front of her mind, and it took the form of a black hooded man swinging down a heavy axe upon her neck. Panic began to arise from her, she squirmed in her seat and tugged at the rope bindings, but they held fast.

 

“Settle down back there!” The driver up front yelled back to her, but she ignored him, instead deciding to use her claw like nails to scratch at the bindings, when that didn’t work she tried to chew on them. “I said,” The guardsman driving the cart stood and drew his sword, wheeling around to threaten her, “Settle down, or I’ll save the Imperials the trouble!”

 

“Come now, Katia,” Ralof placed a hand on Katia’s arm, a calming tone to his voice, “There is a time to struggle against fate, and there are times to accept it with dignity.”

 

She wanted to fight back, but looking around her she was clearly in no state to do so with a cart in front of them and one behind them, each guarded on their own.

 

“What’s going on up there?” The guard behind them spoke up.

 

Katia sank back down into her seat, defeated and truly unsure of what to do. The ride remained awkwardly silent, the air frozen with both fear and the northern cold, stinging Katia’s throat with each breath.

 

“So, where are you from, horse thief?” Ralof broke the silence, his voice ringing against the trees.

 

“Why do you care?” He replied.

 

“A Nord’s last thoughts should always be of home.” His words were chilling and seemed to rattle Lokir’s bones.

 

“Rorikstead…” He replied, “I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.”

 

Ralof grunted acknowledgingly. “A decent town, if I may say so, sweetest old lady there makes the most juicy apple pies. Riverwood myself, just a mountain pass from Whiterun…” He reminisced for a few seconds before turning to Katia, “And you, cat? Let me guess, somewhere in Elsweyr, right?”

 

“Cyrodiil,” A wave of memory overcame her as she thought of her home, the wide grasslands and dense forests, privately secluded but still close enough to the nearest city for a convenient visit.

 

“Hmph, surprises from every corner,” Ralof chortled, “But I probably should’ve guessed based on your accent, or lack thereof.”

 

From over a hill a city gate became visible, official looking militants holding spears standing at strict attention were positioned on each side, each one opening one of the double doors. Archers lined the top of the wall, eyeing each of them suspiciously.

 

“Kynareth, Dibella, Akatosh, Mara,” Lokir began to chant to himself, pleading to the gods, “Divine above, please, _please_ help me…”

 

Katia felt an urge to do the same, mostly from the urge to beg anyone for help. She was never one to worship the Nine Divine, her and the gods never had anything to do with each other before, and felt it inappropriate to start begging for help from them now after a life of atheism.

 

The gates opened and the three carts moved in down the streets. Many citizens were watching from their porches or curiously standing along the road, always ushered by a soldier to keep a distance from the carts.

 

“This, is Helgen,” Ralof spoke, looking around himself, “I would visit this place often as a lad. Was sweet on a girl here, but she moved long ago. Wonder if her father is still making the mead with juniper berries mixed in…” His glance landed on an armored man with graying hair talking to someone sitting upon a horse, she wore deep purple robes and her skin had an uncanny yellow complexion. “General Tullius, speaking with his master Aldmeri, no doubt.” He spoke with the same tone of voice as someone would mention something fowl, like horse droppings, or someone’s sick.

 

They rode down street after street, onlookers muttering under their breath, sending their children indoors or otherwise scorning the prisoners with their glares. With each house they passed Katia fell further into realization of what she had done to herself, to her parents, what she has given up for the sake of an absolute fool’s errand. She was warned that traveling the countryside was dangerous, deadly for many without armed companions or hired blades, but never would she imagine the end of her would be at the hands of her own Empire, the same that promised protection for every denizen. The carts rounded a corner to a dead end overlooked by a tall guard’s tower, ominously overshadowing several people standing around a square stone.

 

“By the nine, wh-why are we stopping?” Lokir quivered, Katia hadn’t noticed how pale he had become since she awoke.

 

“Why do you think?” Ralof replied coldly, “End of the line.”

 

The carts lined up next to each other, the guardsmen dismounting and cutting the binding that held them to the cart itself.

 

“Prisoners, step off the carts.” A squintier eyed Nord wearing heavy metal armor standing alongside a man spoke, her position and stance clearly spoke of authority. The rest of the carts obeyed, Katia followed after Ralof stepped down. “Walk forward when your name is called!”

 

“Empire loves their damned lists…” Ralof muttered under his breath.

 

She began to call each of the other prisoners one by one, directing them into a semi-circle around the few other standing in front of the tower. Katia wasn’t a tall person, all her life she had always been shorter than her friends and family standing at a measly four and nine twelfths feet, but at this moment in time she had never felt smaller, more helpless, pathetic to the world around her. Each man or women who were called all seemed determined, proud even, as they were called to stand forth. Katia held no pride, she began to silently cry as she remembered the last thing her pa had said to her, the last words and only request he gave her as her mother protested to Oblivion and back against her to make this journey; ‘Stay safe, stay alive, come back with a trophy or two.’ A tear dripped down her cheek and onto the filthy rags she was given to wear.

 

“Next, Ulfric Stormcloak,” Her tone shifted to that of disgust and anger, “Jarl of Winterhold.”

 

“It has been far more than an honor serving beside you, Jarl Ulfric…” Ralof spoke as Ulfric quietly stepped into his place amongst the other prisoners. “May we meet again in Sovngarde…”

 

“Ralof of Riverwood!”

 

“Best to not keep the gods waiting for us, hm?” Ralof left to join the others.

 

“Lokir of Rorikstead!”

 

“Wait, WAIT!” Lokir hollered stepping forward, “I’m not a rebel! I’m innocent, I have nothing to do with these mad men!”

 

“Step to the block, prisoner.” The woman spoke sharply.

 

“No, I-I’ve never even done anything! I was just trying to make my way through!”

 

“I will not order again!”

 

“I’m innocent, gods damn it!” Lokir ducked his head and took off, bumping past the woman in his insane break for freedom.

 

“ARCHERS!” She called to the soldiers overlooking the entire scene. He made it nearly a hundred feet before an arrow pierced his left shoulder, making him stumble to the right before three more pierced across his body, dropping him to the ground where he let out a final grunt. “Anyone _else_ want to try something foolish?” She looked across the courtyard at the prisoners before glaring hard at Katia. “Step forward.”

 

“Wait, ma’am,” The man to her side spoke up, flipping through pages of a book, “We don’t have a twelfth Stormcloak sympathizer listed.” He looked up to Katia, eyeing her up and down. “Who are you?”

 

“K-Katia,” she managed to choke out.

 

He searched the book once again, brow furrowed and frantically flipping. “We don’t have anyone by that name.”

 

“I don’t care,” The woman replied, “She was captured alongside them, she goes with them.”

 

“Captain, please,” he begged, “When have you heard of a Khajiit Stormcloak? I really think she might be innocent in all this-“

 

“Would you like to take her place, Hadvar?”

 

He was stunned speechless but found his words after a few seconds. He sighed heavily and looked to Katia with guilt. “I’m sorry, we’ll have your remains transported back to Elsweyr. Picked a bad time to stray from a caravan.”

 

“W-wait!” Katia cried. “Please, I’m not even from Elsweyr, I’m from Cyrodiil!”

 

“Captain-“

 

“Are you going to attempt a foolish errand, cat?” The captain interrupted Hadvar immediately, grabbing Katia by the arm and thrusting her towards the other prisoners.

 

There she stood, among a crowd of rebels and villains, being starred down by a large man wearing a black hood with a massive axe, the chopping block taunting her.

 

The man named Tullious walked to the front of the group, addressing Ulfric directly, almost as if he were taunting him. “Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the Stormcloak rebels. Some here in Helgen may call you a hero, but a hero doesn’t use a sacred power such as the Thu’um to murder his king and usurp his throne!” Ulfric made no motion, unable to speak, he only starred down Tullious. “You started this damned war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and destruction, ripping apart families and destroying relations we in Skyrim held for hundreds of generations, and now the Empire is going to put you down like the dog you are!”

 

Amongst the silence between his words came an eerie noise, a far off echo from miles away but ran through everyone’s spine like a bad chill, piercing their hearts like a spear of pure ice; a roar. Not from any bear, or wolf, or any creature Katia had ever heard of, but she hardly took notice to it, her mind already brimming with fear and sorrow.

 

“…What was that?” A soldier in the back asked out loud.

 

“Nothing,” The captain said quickly, regaining her posture in an instant, “Resume the execution!” She turned and stepped towards a woman dressed in ceremonial robes of yellow and dark orange; a priestess of the Divine. “Give them their rights, but hurry a little.”

 

The priestess nodded and stepped forward, raising her hands to the sky, “Oh great and merciful eight Divine, may you see pity upon these’ criminal’s souls, grant them access to Aetherious amongst the eight thrones of the blessed-“

 

“Oh, for the love of Talos,” A rebel to Katia’s right stomped forward, “If I wanted to hear this kind of dribble I’d put my head to a horse’s behind! Shut up and let’s get this over with!”

 

The priestess was taken aback, but resumed posture and obliged when the rest of the prisoners verbally approved of the man's outburst, lowering her arms and crossing them across her body. “As you wish.” She said plainly.

 

“Then you’re volunteering?” The captain asked.

 

“I haven’t got all morning!” The rebel shouted back, approaching the headsman.

 

Katia’s heart skipped a beat as the captain placed her boot to the rebel’s back and forced him to his knees, placing his head against the stone.

 

“My ancestors are looking now upon me, Imperial,” He spoke, “They smiled upon my efforts, they welcome me home to Sovngarde with welcoming arms and cold mead, they are proud of my efforts… can you say the same?”

 

The captain looked to the headsman and nodded sharply. The headsman lifted the axe high above his head and brought it down with all his might. All Katia heard was the metal axe chop against stone; she turned away, tears streaming down her face as she silently weeped. She couldn’t stand to watch, she felt herself becoming sick.

 

“Y-YOU IMPERIAL BASTARDS!” A woman rebel cried, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes.

 

The guardsmen and soldiers around them began to chant and grumble angrily about justice and ‘death to the Stormcloaks’.

 

“As fearless in death as he was in life…” Ralof spoke from beside Katia, “Rest easy now, kinsmen…”

 

“Silence!” The captain shouted. She looked amongst them, scanning the prisoners and locked eyes with Katia. “Next, the cat!”

 

The same roar echoed across the distant white mountains, the same shiver directed up everyone’s spine and ice piercing their heart; for Katia it was hearing her being called next.

 

“Th-there it is again,” A guardsman shifted uncomfortably, starring up at the sky, “What in blazes could that have been…”

 

“I _said next prisoner_!”

 

“Come on, girl,” Hadvar had placed his palm on Katia’s back, pushing her lightly forward, “Nice and easy, it will be over quick.” Her legs felt weak but moved of their own accord, she whimpered softly as she slowly approached the block, the headless corpse of the man prior was kicked aside by the captain. Her mind raced faster than it ever had, she couldn’t focus on a single thought, and all she could do was walk forward towards her fate.

 

She reached the stone and time seemed to have both stood still and sped up at the same; the moments happened fast, but the moments lasted minutes at a time. She was pushed to her knees, forced to bend over the block, and her head was placed against a rounded groove in the stone. She twisted her head to look up at the headsman, giving him one final pleading glance. The headsman remained unfazed, his glare locked upon his target, he began to swing the axe upward, the gleam of the afternoon sun glared against the sharpened blade, glistening with fresh blood.

 

Once more the roar was heard, echoing across the entire valley, shaking the trees and stirring the birds. A large black mass appeared from around one of the distant mountains, soaring through the sky, faster than a hawk swooping for its prey.

 

“WHAT IN OBLIVION IS THAT!?” One of the soldiers cried, everyone’s attention turning towards the sky.

 

Katia’s eyes widened even further as she glanced past the headsman at the massive creature swooping down into view, the headsman hesitated and turned his glance. The creature landed hard on top of the tower, a gust of force knocked the headsman away and sent everyone else stumbling to the floor. The creature craned it’s long neck, covered in jagged scales and spines, it’s head long and slender with long scales growing in a single direction, long crooked horns broke from the top of its skull, and deep, blood red eyes pierced the air and into Katia’s heart; it stared directly into her, it’s glare seemed to be that of malice, anger, hatred for everything it saw. After what felt like an eternity it opened its mouth and spoke, “ ** _BEX VUS NAH!_** ” It bellowed the phrase with incredible force and volume, radiating from the mountains for miles and knocking Katia to the floor. The skies began to swirl with violent storm clouds before breaking in the center, opening the sky to the stars and cosmos, and heavenly hellfire began to rain down in the form of meteors, crashing hard into the ground and shattering the stone it collided with.

 

Her vision became blurry, her ears temporarily became muted, all she could do was grit her teeth and squint her eyes as she laid curled on the ground. A muffled voice called to her, but she could not respond. Something grabbed her shoulder and shook her, but she hadn’t noticed. The figure thrust her to her feet and dragged her forward towards and open door in a stone barracks, a man throwing his arm forwards and back to hurry whoever was pulling her. She was thrown to a pile of hay and furs, the door slammed shut behind them, and her senses began to return to her.

 

“Ulfric, what in Oblivion is that?” Ralof spoke, “The… legends, could they be true…?”

 

Ulfric stood before them in the room, throwing off his gag and spitting on the floor. “Legends don’t burn down cities, Ralof.” He cracked his knuckles and picked up an iron hand axe from a nearby weapons rack. “Alright men, those who can walk carry the ones who can’t, that beast will surely look in here eventually!”

 

Katia turned over to sit up, panting hard and rubbing her face in her hands.

 

“Can you walk, cat?” A Stormcloak man approached her, offering his hand to pick her up.

 

“Yes, yes I’m unharmed,” Katia stammered, accepting his hand, “I think anyway…”

 

“Forget the cat,” Ulfric said, pushing past Katia to tend to a Nord woman who was resting beside her in a shallow pool of blood.

 

“Katia, this way!” Ralof was standing on a spiral staircase, motioning for her to follow him. She blinked hard, her eyes stinging from dust, ashes and tears, making them water even worse, and started up the staircase. “Consider yourself lucky, all things considered, huh?” Ralof said, “It’s not every day the gods give you such a second chance at life.”

 

“Whatever that thing is,” A man following behind them spoke holding another’s arm over his shoulder, “I’m sure the Gods have nothing to do with it.”

 

“Ulfric sir!” A Stormcloak with a bow at the top of the staircase called down, “Up here, I think I see a clear path to the-“

 

 The wall beside him shattered, cutting his words short as he erupted into a fountain of flame, his screams were muted by the great voice of the beast shouting something as it exhaled the flames. Ralof thrusted Katia to the wall, shielding her from the flame and crouching down to avoid the beast’s gaze. It looked almost satisfied with the burning carcass it left behind and leaped from the wall and soared away.

 

Ralof stomped through the flames and motioned for them to follow him. “Over here! Jump to the next roof!” He grabbed Katia’s arm and put her in front of the hole in the wall, across the ways was a semi burning wooden house with a thatched roof. “You alright Cat? Here, you go first, just run and jump.”

 

Katia tried to protest but was interrupted by another Stormcloak. “Don’t worry, you’re a cat, you’ll just land on your feet, right?” He chortled to himself, shoving her forward towards the hole.

 

She glanced down and held her breath, leaping from the hole and landing hard on the roof. It creaked and swayed under her weight before it gave out completely, sending her crashing to the wood floor below. She coughed and shook the dust off of herself, clambering back to her feet.

 

“You alright down there?” Ralof called after her, “Just go, we’ll find another way, we’ll catch up!”

 

Katia had no plans of waiting for them anyways, the way they were treating her she’d rather the hospitality of the beast. The floor in front of her was crumbled away, leading an open path to the outside. She slipped down off the splintered boards and landed on her hands and feet, realizing that she was still bound at the wrists. She ran through a hole and onto the street where citizens and soldiers alike were running in a blind panic. She scanned around looking for anything to help her as the beast loomed down to land in one alley. It reared its head back and roared another phrase; “ ** _YOL TOOR-_** “someone grabbed Katia’s arm and pulled her aside; saving her from the torrent of flames that erupted down the alley.

 

“By the eight, you’re still alive?” Hadvar said, steadying Katia’s stance, “I could’ve sworn I saw you get…” He trailed off, distracted by a group of soldiers running down the street, “Never mind, stick with us and we’ll get out of this together, now come on!”

 

They ran down with the soldiers for a few feet before Hadvar gasped and ordered katia to get down, throwing her against the city wall. Before she could even think the beast landed hard on the wall behind them, an enormous black, leathery wing gripped the wall and draped down in front of them, a claw stopping a few fractions of a foot from Katia’s face. She breathed hard, her eyes wide with surprise and fright, she looked to Hadvar on her left.

 

“Don’t, move,” He muttered as the black monster craned its long neck to focus on the soldiers.

 

“ ** _FUS ROH DAH!_** ” it bellowed as a wall of displaced air rushed from its mouth and slammed into the soldiers, sending them hurling backwards like ragdolls in a tornado. They slammed into the wall of a house, sending them through the wall as it crumbled on top of them. The beast leapt from its perch, sending a gust of wind downward, pushing both of them into the ground.

 

“Get up, come on!” Hadvar scrambled to his feet at the same time as Katia, stumbling forward into the half collapsed house, through to the other side into the town square. The square had a large arched wall to the left and the city’s Keep to their right, Soldiers and archers scrambled all around, unable to combat the flying beast. From a distance Ralof stepped out from behind a shattered wall, pulling a longsword from his back. He and Hadvar starred each other down, fury building in the tension between the two.

 

“Ralof, you damned traitor,” Hadvar growled, pulling his own sword, “Out of our way! We have no time for a fight!”

 

“You’re not going to stop me this time, Hadvar!” Ralof shouted, “Not again, we’re leaving!”

 

Hadvar gritted his teeth and tightened his grip, “Fine, run, I hope that beast takes you all to Sovngarde!”

 

They circled each other, reaching different doorways into the Keep. Ralof caught glance of Katia and motioned her to follow. “With me, cat, I could use a second set of hands!”

 

“No!” Hadvar shouted, “Follow me, those Stormcloaks would sooner skin you for fur than go hunting themselves!”

 

“He was set in charge to have you executed!”

 

“It was a gaffe; I knew you had nothing to do with them from the start!” Hadvar pleaded, “I tried to reason with the captain but she wouldn’t hear any of it!”

 

The ground rumbled as another volley of meteors struck the street, sending loose stones and broken dust every which way.

 

“We don’t have time for this, you stupid cat!” Ralof shouted, “Come with me and you might just live!”

 

“Katia, please,” Hadvar held his hand out, his eyes spoke with sincerity whereas Ralof looked ready to give up, “I need your help, we can do this together.”

 

Katia swiveled her head between the two, weighing her options quickly as the beast swooped down and snatched an archer from the wall, throwing him high into the air and landing beyond the distant tree line. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and ran towards Hadvar. Ralof voiced his disposition but was cut short by the beast landing in the courtyard. It opened its mouth to scream more terrible words, but Hadvar flung the Keep’s main door open and threw Katia inside, slamming the heavy gateway shut seconds before a blast of pure force slammed into it.

 

 

The walls rattled and shuddered as a rumbling roar passed through the dark room, dust fell from the ceiling and weapons rattled on their podiums. The torches mounted on the walls casted an eerie, flickering light on the room, long shadows of beds and chests reached across the floor and climbed the walls, dancing even more with each rumble.

 

Both Hadvar and Katia panted hard, he pressed the door shut and latched it while she lay upon the floor, reeling to collect her senses once more. He turned and ran his fingers through his hair, sweat dripping from his brow. “We can’t stay here long; the Helgen Keep is sturdy, but not sturdy enough.” He walked over to a far counter and grabbed a bucket of water, splashing his face and gulping down handfuls. “I have no idea what that beast was, or rather, I hope I don’t,” He wiped his face, leaning on the counter with one elbow, “Because if I do, then we’re in for some hard times ahead, far worse than any civil war. We’ve all heard the legends as children, but when I grew up I thought they were just that- legends, and now, on this day of all days, they chose to-“

 

His words were cut off by Katia’s sobbing, her tears trickled to the stone floor in small drops. All the excitement, fear, confusion, and panic caught up to her all at once. She shook violently, her sobs forcing her shoulders forward and her whole body quaked, from fear, exhaustion, adrenaline- Katia wasn’t sure which contributed more. Hadvar sighed once again and pursed his lips. He leaned down to her level and placed his hand upon her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

 

“Hey now, come on,” He said soothingly, “We’re not dead now, I honestly think we have a pretty good shot at making it out of here in one piece. We can-“

 

“You tried to kill me.” Katia spoke between sobs, keeping her eyes shut tight.

 

Hadvar retracted his hand, a solemn look overcame his complexion, “I don’t suppose I’m in the right place to be asking for forgiveness from you, you’re right. All I ask is that you listen to my explanation.” He stood up and grabbed the water bucket, placing it in front of her. “Ulfric Stormcloak is a bad man; he murdered the High King of Skyrim and claims it’s now his right to the throne. After months of slaughter and skirmishes we finally caught him. We were all eager to see the conflict end, and if even one thing went wrong he could have escaped- well, our fears came true anyway. As far as any of us knew, you were a powerful mage in disguise, ready to spring him from his binds and even take out as many of us Imperials as possible.” He grabbed a rag from a bench and dipped it in the water and began to dab at a few cuts Katia hadn’t noticed. She winced as it stung but let him continue. “I’m not asking you to forgive us, you know, I just want you to understand. Do you?”

 

She wiped her cheek on her rope bindings, steadying her breath and sitting up straight, cross legged on the floor. She nodded sharply, she didn’t believe it to be right in any way to attempt to execute her without trial, or even hearing her case, but it was currently the best thing to do in the situation, if anything to just move on.

 

“Oh, right,” Hadvar pulled a knife from his boot and sliced her bindings, freeing her hands at last. “Let me get those for you, I think you’ve more than earned a pardon for a crime you had nothing to do with.”

 

She rubbed her wrists; the rope was beginning to cause rough burns on them. After Hadvar pushed the bucket closer she thanked him and splashed her hands in, washing her face and rubbing away the sting in her eyes. The rippling water calmed enough for her to see her own reflection, something she herself hasn’t seen in a long time; in the reflection the image of a large feline stared back, its amber eyes flickered and seemed to glow in the low torchlight. Her fur, matted, singed and spattered with dirt and mud, retained its orange tone, a dark stripe running up from the bridge of her nose across her skull and ran down her back to the tip of her tail. Most Khajiit had hair different than their fur, long locks running down in braids and curls with golden jewelry, but she kept hers cut, always felt it got in the way, and her ma always said it made her look cleaner.

 

“Take a look around,” Hadvar said, standing up and looking about the room, “This appears to be a barracks, there should be some spare armor and a good weapon, you know your way around a sword, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Katia replied, finishing washing her face, “My pa taught me a bit, wouldn’t ever let me out of the house without at least a dagger.” She stood up and shook her hands of water. “But… I’ve honestly never killed anything larger than a wolf…”

 

“Well, that could be an issue,” He said, “Wolves tend to be the least of your worries here in Skyrim. Skeevers, trolls, giants, mammoths,” He pulled a short sword from a rack and looked down the blade, “And now Dragons, it seems.”

 

  1. Something about the word sent a strange feeling up Katia’s spine. Her pa would tell her stories and legends of great Dragons, powerful heroes, and ancient magics long forgotten. Every time he would say the word, he gave it a special voice and pronunciation, and each time Katia would giggle in glee as the same feeling would overcome her body.



 

“Dragon, like, from the stories?” Katia threw off her rags to the floor before riffling through a trunk at the foot of one of the beds. She pulled out armor made from leather and cloth with the same design as the Imperials outside. Though leather is weak, she figured it would still provide better protection than her bare fur and skin.

 

“Sure seems like it, I can’t think of anything else that could fit the description of that… thing.”  Hadvar glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Katia’s bare self. He looked away quickly, his face feeling warmer. The ceiling shook as the beast roared with ungodly volume in the city behind them. “Hurry up, if we want to leave here alive we have to move now.”

 

Katia donned the rest of her gear; a leather armor tunic, boots, gloves, an iron short sword, and helmet, all slightly off sized and awkwardly fitted; the helmet also lacked ear holes. Satisfied, at least for now, Hadvar opened the door at the end of the room into a narrow hallway to a downward staircase. Hadvar, leading the way, heard voices coming from the room ahead, and splayed himself against the cold wall.

 

“Hold up, you hear them?” He leaned his head closer, focusing on the voices, “Stormcloaks, must’ve found a side entrance.” He thought to himself for a moment before sheathing his sword, “Stick to my lead, they seem lost and I think we can convince them for a peaceful resolve.”

 

Before Katia could object he pushed open the iron barred door and approached three burly but bruised and bleeding rebels. One man, resting against a large hammer, was arguing loudly with another tending a wound on his arm. The third,  a woman, crossed her arms and glared at the far door on the other side of the room. All three snapped their heads as soon as Hadvar came into view, Katia following close behind, though hiding behind him.

 

“Now now, hold on,” He raised his hands in front of him to show he was unarmed as they raised their weapons and began to step dangerously forward.  “We don’t want trouble, in fact, we want to get out of it, same as you.”

 

“Imperial dog,” the man with the hammer spat, “Why don’t we save that beast some effort and put you down ourselves?”

 

“Because that beast doesn’t care whose side we are on,” Hadvar retorted, “Hell, I don’t even know if it understands or cares about Skyrim!” He licked his lips and looked to the far door. “Listen, if we stick together we can all get out of this, then we can go our separate ways in the end-“

 

“Right after you stick that knife in our backs, yeah?” The woman nodded towards a hidden blade tucked in Hadvar’s cuff that had slipped loose.

 

The hammer fighter growled and swung the weapon at Hadvar’s head before he had a chance to respond. Hadvar ducked and pushed Katia to the ground, drawing his sword and shield and blocked the second swing, groaning as the weapon slammed into the metal shield with a loud bang. The other man and the woman lunged against his flanks, however Katia sprung from the floor to block the woman. She drew her sword and swung it forward to meet the other, clanging loudly as the met. She glanced to Hadvar to see if he was alright, but the woman kicked her away.

 

“I’ll tell you this now, girl,” The woman glared daggers into Katia’s eyes, who couldn’t help but meet her glance with fear, “This is no place for kittens. If you can’t meet another’s blade without crying for your mother, then you should have never come to Skyrim!” She rushed forward, swinging the blade rapidly and wildly, Katia tried her best to block the swings with either her sword or her shield, but still a few sliced against the hardened leather armor, leaving deep gashes.

 

Katia thought hard, trying to remember what her father had taught about sword fighting, wishing both that her mother didn’t object so much to the teachings and that she paid more attention, never imagining she would wind up is such a situation. Horizontal slice, vertical slice, backswing, parry, none of it seemed to matter when fighting against something that doesn’t hold still against a piece of lumber, she needed to find an opening; ‘that’s it!’ she thought to herself, remembering her father’s words;  ‘The key to sword fighting is finding an opponent’s weak point and striking it’. Katia allowed the woman to swing a few more times, blocking three but the fourth cut against her shoulder, slicing through the armor and skimming her skin, but she saw something; the woman wasn’t covering her left at all! Katia waited for the next swing before meeting her blade with her shield, lunging forward and ran her sword through the woman’s gut. She groaned and coughed blood before Katia pulled her sword back, dropping the rebel to the floor. She breathed heavily, gasping as she looked to Hadvar who was crossing his sword with the injured man, the hammer man lay on the floor in his own blood. Hadvar struggled, beginning to lose the match of strength, the enemy’s blade getting closer to his face. Before she could even think, Katia thrusted her blade into the man’s back, who wretched back, allowing Hadvar to slam his sword into the man’s face, sending him to the stone floor.

 

Hadvar took a deep breath and stepped back, he examined Katia’s work with a raised brow, sweeping his eyes along the floor of the two warriors she had slain, and the third she helped with. He nodded at her approvingly before wiping the blood from his sword and continuing on through the far door, Katia, feeling numb from the emotional overload, followed suit.

 

They hurried through more halls and a downward staircase, the walls shaking and dust falling from the ceiling as the beast continued to ravage overhead, roars echoing down the cobbled passageway. One scream rumbled above all others, the entire passage shook violently, sending both Katia and Hadvar stumbling. The ceiling cracked in front of them, boulders tumbled down as the passage collapsed, completely blocking their path.

 

Hadvar swore under his breath, waving his hand in front of his face, trying to fan himself from the dust. “That thing doesn’t give up easy, does it?” He mumbled to himself, looking around. He spotted a sturdy wood door along the left wall and tried for the handle. “Come on, I think this way leads to the same.”

 

Inside the room was lined with storage barrels and hanging meats, pheasants and rabbits hung from hooks on the ceiling and dried herbs on the other side. A fire burned brightly as a boiling cooking pot bubbled merrily as delicious smelling fumes filled the air. In the far side of the room two Stormcloak rebels were frantically searching through barrels and boxes, arguing to each other.

 

“I don’t think we should waste our time with diplomacies again,” Hadvar mumbled, drawing his blade and approaching the two men with stealth. He crept along slowly, what little noise he made was drowned out by their frantic shouting. Reaching the one on the left he grabbed his head with one arm and ran the man through with his sword, who yelled sharply before falling limp. His companion spun around in shock, but was met by Hadvar’s blade across his throat.

 

With the two dead he motioned for Katia to follow and peered inside one of the barrels. “Here, take this with you,” he produced a small phial of red liquid flimsily labeled with the word ‘Health’ scrawled on it. “If you get hurt, drink it, or apply it to the wound for a faster result.” Katia uncorked the bottled and sniffed, she wrinkled her nose as the smell burned with a powerful, pungent odor. She quickly reapplied the cork and coughed sharply. “Yeah, don’t focus on the taste, just drink it in emergency.”

 

Hadvar stomped across the body of the men towards a far door, Katia stepped cautiously around them. He grabbed a key that was hanging on the wall and unlocked the door, swinging it open. They continued further down another set of stairs and a few more hallways lined by flickering torches before Hadvar stopped sharply before a doorway to a large room.

 

“Great, the torture room,” He mumbled unhappily, “Gods, I truly wish we didn’t need these.”

 

A shiver ran down Katia’s spine as they walked past cramped metal cages with skeletons or rotting corpses inside, the walls had a few bodies hanging by their wrists, a few had gashes and wounds across their limbs and faces that looked to be pummeled with a tree branch. A hooded man leaning over a bench full of unidentifiable tools hummed off key to himself. A figure, obscured in the shadow of one of the support pillars, approached him slowly with weapon drawn and ready to strike. Katia had begun to call out, to try to warn this man without even thinking, when a second obscured figure lunged from the other side of the room, a large burly man she hadn’t noticed bludgeoned the would be assassin across the back with his mace, roaring loudly as he pushed his entire weight into the swing. The hooded man turned around slowly and peered over the crumpled Stormcloak man on the floor.

 

“Oh, thank you,” He spoke in a grizzled voice, his complexion made it clear he was far advanced in his age, “I hadn’t seen that one.” He turned to peer at Hadvar and Katia, squinting his gray eyes hard, then smiled with a cheery but at the same time haunting disposition. “Oh, hello captain, come to inspect how the interrogations are going?”

 

“I, no,” Hadvar stammered, “Haven’t you heard? The keep is under attack!”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” The old torturer gazed slowly at a pile of crumpled bodies clothed in the blue Stormcloak armor, “Just a few young folk who didn’t appreciate how we were treating their friends. But don’t worry about me, my assistant was far more than capable of handling it.”

 

“What? Not the rebels, the keep is being attacked by a dragon!” Hadvar shouted, trying to force some sense into the old man’s head.

 

“What’s that you say? Dragons?” He pondered about the room calmly, placing a few torture tools on racks on the wall. “Didn’t your momma teach you it’s rude to try to fool an old man? Hush yourself with such nonsense.”

 

“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” Hadvar clenched his fist as he grew further annoyed by the old man’s obvious madness, “We need to get out of here, now follow us!”

 

The torturer turned sharply and pointed a scrawny wrinkled finger at Hadvar, “You have no authority over me, boy. I have much work to do and I will not have you distract me further. Take your Elf friend and leave me be.”

 

Hadvar and Katia shared a confused glance before looking her up and down. “Fine, we don’t have time for this!” Hadvar yelled.

 

“Wait,” The large man spoke in a deep and forceful voice, “I know better way out.” His speech carried an air of unintelligence; he turned to a doorway to a second torture room and motioned the tw to follow.

 

“Culdo, don’t indulge with the foolish boys,” The old torturer said with his back turned. “Come, help me reach this shelf.”

 

Culdo ignored the orders and led them to a far wall on the other side of the next room; a cool draft could be felt from the loose and cracked bricks. Culdo grunted as he lifted his foot and kicked the wall, clearing a man sized hole into a cave. “Leads through cave, other mountain.” He mumbled.

 

“Thank you,” Hadvar said, patting the large man on the arm, “Now come with us, we must flee at once.”

 

“No,” Culdo turned away, pointing a large hand towards the first room. “Have to keep master safe. I stay with master. You two run.”

 

“Very well,” Hadvar sighed defeatedly and stepped through the hole, “Take care.”

 

Katia followed, whispering ‘Thank you,’ to the large man, who returned with a crooked smile and what appeared to be a blush.

 

 

The cave appeared to be carved by a river flowing through and years of animals scrapping against the walls, trying to make a home for themselves. A skeleton laid on against a bank on the other side of the water, still gripping a coin purse and an old rusted lantern, a thief who met with an unfortunate fate as they tried to hide here. Hadvar grabbed the lantern and shook the bones from it. He produced two stones from a pouch on his belt and struck them together, creating bright sparks that ignited a flame in the lantern. He used it to look around the moist walls; water trickled down between cracks and fed the sloshing stream.

 

He motioned for Katia to follow down the cave, lighting the way and taking lead. The cave wound and turned but remained straightforward, the stream fed into a large crack in the wall too small for anyone to pass through. They approached a cavernous room covered in some kind of white slime that hung in long strands from the ceiling, pods with what looked like an animal’s limb’s sticking out hung from stalactites, large round rock like objects were placed in several corners with large cracks in them, showing their hollow center.

 

“I don’t like the look of this…” Hadvar mumbled, scanning the walls with the lantern light.

 

Just as soon as he spoke a chittering, hissing creature began to stir on the ceiling. It skittered on many legs with multiple black glassy eyes that shimmered in the light. It jumped from the ceiling with a long white thread produced from its backside. It stood at nearly a foot tall and three wide with enormous fangs dripping with some kind of blue viscous fluid. Hadvar dropped the lantern and stepped back in surprise, drawing his sword and motioning his other arm for Katia to stay back.

 

“Frost Spiders!” He shouted, “Their venom will freeze your blood, watch out!”

 

The spider hissed and lunged at Hadvar, spitting droplets of its venom wildly. He met it with his blade, the spider bit down with its sharp mandibles stabbing at whatever it could. He threw it off, slashed left, slashed right, and yelled a battle cry as he stabbed his sword through its head, between it’s eyes. The spider screeched and struggled for a few seconds before slowly curling its twitching limbs in death.

 

Hadvar sighed in relief and pulled the sword out. He wiped the green blood against a column of web, though it didn’t work that well. He turned to speak, possibly to gloat about the battle, when his eyes widened in horror, his gaze just beyond Katia. She turned to look but was pounced the second she saw; three more spiders, each several times larger than the previous, one was the size of a moose. She fell to the sticky floor, the creature loomed over her and pinned her arms with its legs, and even without pupils it stared into her eyes and dripped it’s venom onto her face like drool. The venom felt cold, really cold, against her skin, she closed her eyes and turned her face trying to keep it from dripping into them. She waited for a sharp bit against her neck, gritting her teeth and trying to make peace with the fact that she could escape a mythical beast with minimal damage but would die at the fangs of a common critter. But the pain never came; instead, she heard Hadvar grunt, the weight lifted off of her chest, and was suddenly hoisted up by her collar, her feet dragged across the rocky floor as Hadvar pulled her away as fast as he could.

 

Katia desperately wiped the slimy venom from her face, trying her best to not get it in her eyes or mouth, she could hear the spiders screeching after them, only it sounded like one hundred more had joined the chase. She stumbled to her feet, finally able to see, and ran down the dark tunnels. The light faded more and more the farther they ran, rounding corners and climbing steep inclines, glowing mushrooms along the way provided some light, but not nearly enough. Hadvar was slowing down, outstretching his arms desperately feeling the walls and stumbling over every rock. Katia thought fast and squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating hard on a trick she learned as a young girl; her eyes opened and glowed a faint blue, in her vision everything became bright as day, though the only color she could see was blue and gray. She took Hadvar’s hand and pulled him forward, guiding him through the tunnel and further from the spiders.

 

They reached a rickety wooden bridge; it was drawn and appeared to be controlled by a rusty old lever attached to the corner. Katia grabbed it, throwing her weight against it, but it didn’t budge. Hadvar, apparently able to see just enough, joined in, struggling with all his might to pull the metal rod. The rust cracked and crumbled in the joint. The lever screeched and protested against them but eventually gave way to their efforts, swinging reluctantly into the other position and dropping the bridge and allowing them to cross.

 

Katia looked back quickly; the spiders were nearly on top of them, crawling along the walls and ceiling as well as they did the floor. A thousand hisses echoed down the tunnel, mimicking the sound of rushing water as the spiders acted like a torrent. Panicking with fear she grabbed Hadvar’s arm and pulled him across the bridge, the walls rumbled as the flying beast another earth shattering scream, boulders fell from the ceiling and shattered the bridge just after the two cleared it, smashing it to pieces. Rocks and dirt continued to fill the pit in the floor before it completely clogged the passage, a few straggling spiders were crushed under the weight, splattering Katia and Hadvar’s ankles with black and green viscera.

 

Sunlight from the surface filtered into the tunnel, providing enough light to illuminate to the end of the passage. The sudden brightness was intensified by Katia’s night eye ability, she recoiled and covered them, concentrating once again to turn it off. They both stood panting, still reeling about what had just happened, about how they just barely escaped with their lives.

 

“Well now,” Hadvar wiped his forehead and sighed, “Glad that part’s over.” He inspected the collapsed tunnel, looking up to the sky from the hole. “Looks like the gods truly want us to live. I certainly haven’t had that kind of luck before.” He looked Katia up and down, “You some kind of priestess? They must really favor you.” He shook his head and knocked his boots together to knock off the dirt and grime. “Let’s not dawdle and test how many miracles we’re worth, come on, we must be close to the surface.”

 

The tunnel led into an even larger cavern rising to around twenty feet, illuminated by a large crack in the ceiling allowing the sun to spill inside. They both quickly looked to the ceiling; for the most part it seemed to be spider free, at least of the giant variety, without a trace of web. They both breathed a sigh of relief and continued further into the large cavern. The stream that had disappeared into the rock now reappeared and flowed through the center, carving and snaking its way to the far wall and into another hole, much like the one from before. The stream curved in a large semi-circle on the far side, seemingly avoiding a large brown mass on the ground. It rose and fell rhythmically, twitching ever so slightly as a draft blew into the cave.

 

Hadvar swore sharply and leaned close to the ground, placing a hand on Katia’s shoulder and guiding her down. “A cave bear, keep quiet, I think it’s asleep.” He whispered. “We can sneak past it, just be careful.”

 

Katia gave a weak nod and braced herself. Under normal circumstances she had been rather decent at sneaking around people, she was light, small and agile her whole life, with plenty of practice from stealing an extra sweet treat after her dinner when her Momma wasn’t looking. Together they tip-toed around the sleeping bear, walking watchfully as the rocks and sand underfoot crunched.

 

The cool, fresh, crisp mountain air stung Katia’s dry throat, but still she relished every moment she stood under the sun, embraced the bone chilling gust that blew through her core, and drank in the smell of fresh flora. All feelings of joy, however, was fleeting as the black beast soared overhead, moving fast and whipping up wind gusts that shook the trees all around them, sending every bird in the area into a panic and flying away. Hadvar grabbed her shoulder and crouched behind a boulder. He let go as soon as it left view over the distant mountain horizon.

 

Hadvar sighed deeply and slowly picked himself up to his feet, “I think it’s finally over,” He stretched his hand out to help Katia up, who complied and rose to her own feet. “Well, for now, at least. If the Stormcloaks are behind this…” He trailed off, look off into the direction the beast had flown. “Listen, I am more than grateful for your help, without you, I surely would be dead.” Katia mulled over this statement; truly he saved her life far more often than not, but she appreciated his generosity otherwise. Hadvar looked around himself, taking note of the landmarks around them. “We’re close to Riverwood,” He said, “I have an uncle and aunt who live there, nice family, I’m sure they’ll help us out.”

 

“A-alright,” Katia agreed. Truthfully she had no choice, when she was captured and knocked out they took all her belongings; her money, her food, her clothes, her horse… all she had right now was the sword on her hip and the armor on her body, and both of those were either worn down, marked up with scrapes and nicks, or covered in blood, spider venom or spider guts.

 

The two set off down a cobbled, worn path that ran along a river. The water babbled gleefully as it flowed through several rapids and small waterfalls, fish spawning and swimming against the flow leaped out of the water and up the fall. Wild flowers and berry bushes lined the path as it wound around the mountain to the right; the ground had a fresh layer of frost and flurry. They walked in silence, neither one had spoken a word in several minutes, Katia still felt in shock about the whole situation, she had left home in search of excitement and adventure, but this was far from what she imagined the journey would be like.

 

Hadvar rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, clearing his throat and avoiding Katia’s gaze. “Listen, I know that it was a false accusation, wrong time wrong place,” He looked directly into her eyes with an official look in his expression. “As captain of the eighth brigade, I give you a pardon of all crimes and wrongdoings you were charged with by the Empire of Cyrodiil.” He looked away, back to walking normally, “Just, for now, keep your head down and avoid attention, at least, until I can reach General Tullius and inform him of such…”

 

More silence as they continued down the path, seemingly the only two creatures alive along this road, all other animals must have been scared away by the black beast. Katia envied them, solving their problems by simply running into a hole in the ground and waiting for it to go away, how at peace the rabbits and foxes must feel when they don’t have to worry about a group of other rabbits capturing them to cut off their heads, or Dragons falling from the sky to fry them to a crisp. Then again, animals don’t really think like people, nor can they talk to each other or have fun with friends, so maybe the animal life isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

 

“If my word still means anything to you,” Hadvar interrupted her thoughts, “We, the Empire, could use help from people like you. I know today wasn’t exactly a good first impression, but I promise we pay far more attention to justice and want nothing but peace in Tamriel, it’s just that, after we captured Ulfric, everyone got a bit, ah, excited, and just wanted to get it over with before he got a chance to escape.” He looked off into the distance, pressing his lips together and furrowing his brow, “Well, I suppose we still failed in that regard, if we made it out, Ulfric sure as hell did as well. He’s always been a resourceful man.” Hadvar trailed off, staring into the rippling river as it reflected the setting sun.

 

“What exactly,” Katia felt dry mouthed, like she had been chewing on wool, “What is this war all about?” She figured there must be more to it than an angry man who wanted power, it sounded like the base to many of the tales her pa had told her when he wanted her to sleep.

 

Hadvar took a quick glance at her before looking back, “Well, you know about the White-Gold concordat, right?” Katia returned with a confused expression. “The Aldmeri-Empire peace treaty?” She still looked with the same blank expression. “You don’t pay too close attention to current events, do you?”

 

“My village was pretty secluded,” Katia replied, remembering to how little travelers passed through, trade caravans would tend to get lost along the way and the closest city was several hours away by horse.

 

“Well, the Aldmeri Dominion, a dominion made up of High Elves from High Rock, declared war against the Empire of Cyrodiil, they were trying to expand their empire, restore it to the glory it was a couple thousand years ago.” Hadvar looked distant, apparently remembering his experience within the war. “It was a terrible fight, the kind of war where neither side truly wins, just too many dead. We had good weapons and well trained soldiers, they had magic not even the College had seen before.” He closed his eyes and shook his head lightly. “Long story short, the war finally reached the Imperial City, the capitol of all of Cyrodiil. The Dominion got the upper hand and managed to destroy the White Gold Palace, along with half the city. However, at the same time, the Dominion suffered a heavy casualty count as we ambushed their troops. It was mostly a bluff tactic, making them think we had our armies in great positions. They called for a conditional surrender, whether they knew it was a ruse or were just too damned headstrong, they called our bluff and made some heavy demands. They receive a large portion of Hammerfell, an enormous sum of gold, and the banning of the worship of Talos from the Divine. They also wanted free roam across Empire lands to enforce this condition, by any means they deemed necessary.”

 

Katia looked at him shocked. Talos was one of the Nine Divine, an ancient Nord hero who ascended to godhood through great deeds and legendary actions, including forming the first Empire of Cyrodiil. “Talos? Why him?”

 

  
The Elves believe him to be a false god,” Hadvar stated coldly, “They say that a man could never become a god, and worshipping him would be an insult to the others. Around the other countries, Cyrodiil, Black Marsh, Morrowind, this wasn’t as bad. Sure, the people felt insulted, but most complied quietly, knowing they had no other choice. Skyrim, on the other hand, didn’t take it lightly. Talos was a Nord, you know, named Tiber Septim, a hero amongst the Nords of this land. They take pride in the fact that a man-turned-god had come from their homeland. Ulfric was amongst these people, he gathered other like-minds and formed the Stormcloaks, his own army to fight against the Aldmeri influence here.”

 

“And then he killed a king.” Katia injected.

 

“Yes, he murdered the High king and claimed it was now his right to the throne. Ever since, the war here just got worse.” Hadvar looked down to his feet, still with the same distant look. “Well, enough history lessons, eh? We’re getting close to Riverwood.”

 

Indeed billows of chimney smoke could be seen over the tree line. Up the mountain to the North Katia noticed a peculiar looking stone ruin; it had a chilling atmosphere about it, almost like an evil presence loomed over it. She asked about it to Hadvar, who seemed to know the location well.

 

“Bleak Falls Barrow,” Hadvar glared at the structure, “Never liked the place, haunted my dreams when I was young. Old Draugr falling down the mountain and climbing into my window while I slept.” He took a quick glance at Katia, eyeing her up and down. He seemed to sense something about her. “Now don’t be getting any ideas, that place is nothing but bad news, many people tried to explore, very few have come back, even less in one piece.”

 

Though his warning left a pit in her stomach, Katia couldn’t help but feel a twinge of curiosity, and a sense of exploration.

 

 

Riverwood was a sleepy town that was settled on top of the river that the two had followed. A Main Street ran through and continued on, two stone arches protected both entrances on either side with guards standing over them. Wood houses with stone foundations were strewn around the streets, all of different shape and sizes, some with smoke rising from their chimneys. Children ran and played with a friendly but scruffy looking dog while adults mulled about their business, pushing carts of vegetables or carrying stacks of wood to their destination. Chickens roamed freely and pecked the ground dutifully at Katia’s feet, oblivious of her presence until they are nearly treaded underfoot.

 

Katia stuck close to Hadvar, who marched through the streets with a strong disposition. He had the calling of a real soldier; even in the face of disaster he held himself strong. He led her to a small house along the street, a two room shack with a porch. Various metal working tools and stations were placed around the porch, Katia could recognize most of them from her Pa’s forge back home  A strong looking, blond, bearded Nord was leaning over an anvil and a red hot piece of metal, slamming a hammer into it, shaping it into what looked like a cart spoke.

 

As they approached he looked up from his work and did a double take as he saw the two. “Hadvar! I thought you were on patrol,” His voice was gruff with age but had a tone of kindness to it. “And- sweet divines, boy! What happened to you!?” He nearly leapt from the anvil trying to approach him. “You look like you lost a fight with a cave bear!”

 

“Almost…” Hadvar mumbled. He tried to guide the man with his arm to the inside, “Please, we can discuss inside,”

 

“But, what happened!” The man insisted, “And who’s this, why does she look worse than you?”

 

Katia became distracted by a voice behind her, a weak, craggy voice of a feeble old woman leaning over a wood railing in front of a house across the street. “A dragon! A dragon!” She called, frantically pointing to the sky, “I saw a dragon, flying overhead! It went North I tell you!”

 

“A dragon is it now, mother?” A man approached her and crossed his arms, “Last week it was flying Trolls, week before talking wolves, now dragons are flying about?”

 

“I swear! I swear I saw it!” The woman was in hysterics, she looked around her desperately, locking eyes with Katia, “There, her! She saw it, didn’t you girl?”

 

Katia half choked out a sound, about to answer her, but was immediately cut off by the man. “Mother, please, go back inside. I keep telling you your vision is fading, it was probably an eagle or something.”

 

“Hey,” Hadvar tapped Katia’s shoulder. She jumped in her skin and wheeled around to face him. “Come on, let’s go inside.” He gestured with his hand towards the door of the house, the blacksmith stood in the doorway, inviting her in. She nodded and followed.

 

 

The house was cozy and surprisingly warm, illuminated by a crackling fire as a pot of food simmered above it. The walls were decorated with trophy mounts of various hunted animal pelts and heads and one large, vicious looking fish mounted on a piece of carved wood. The room was furnished with a large table and a few shelves, a couple chests and drawers placed against the wall, a stairwell leading down to a cellar and a doorway on the back wall leading to a second room. Various items from knick-knacks to hunks of unsmelted metal and leather working tools covered the shelves, while plates of fresh food and tankards of drink were placed on the table. A thin looking woman with a very pale complexion was standing over the fire pit, stirring something in the cooking pot. A little girl with brown shoulder length hair tied back sat in a chair, gently caressing a small ragdoll with blond straw hair.

 

The girl looked up and sprung to her feet, eyes widening and smile spreading across her face. “Cousin Hadvar!” She cried, jumping into his arms with a wide embrace.

 

The woman spun around from her cooking and placed her hand over her mouth in shock. “Hadvar dear, I thought you were on patrol. What happened to you two!?”

 

Hadvar held the girl in his arms, bouncing her affectionately. “It’s… a long story. First things first, my friend here and I- we need a bit of help.”

 

“Of course, boy,” The man slipped past Katia in the doorway, pulling out a chair and sitting. “Anything you need, just tell us!”

 

Hadvar set the girl down and walked over to pull up a chair with him, tugging Katia’s arm to join. “Well, it all happened in Helgen. We had just succeeded in our ambush against Ulfric Stormcloak, we were wary because it was almost too easy. We were getting the execution ready when… well, a dragon attacked.”

 

The man had been taking a swig from a tankard, he nearly spat it out when he heard, Katia was unsure if it was from laughter or fear. “A dragon? You aren’t drunk, are you boy?”

 

“No, no, a real dragon!” Hadvar insisted, “It was enormous, black, and it’s voice shattered entire buildings! My friend and I-“ He sighed and grabbed a Tankard, taking a quick sip. “If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive.”

 

“You’re… you’re serious…” The man seemed to be in disbelief, “And, it wasn’t, say, some clever magic warping your mind?”

 

“I’ve seen the most powerful and most deadly spells be thrown against the hardiest of soldiers, Uncle,” Hadvar’s voice took a serious tone, “This wasn’t any magic I have ever seen, it killed twenty men with one scream, it burnt houses and people inside with a breath of fire, it seemed unstoppable against anything we had!”

 

“Hadvar!” The woman snapped, grabbing the girl and embracing her, “Stop, you’re going to scare Dorthe!”

 

“No, I’m fine!” Dorthe pleaded, struggling out of her mother’s arms, “I’m brave enough!”

 

“No, she’s right,” Hadvar wiped his face with his palm, “Even I was scared of such a creature… I ran when I should have fought…”

 

“Nonsense, boy!” The man slammed his tankard on the table, “You just said it yourself, there’s no way you’d survive that thing!”

 

“Yeah, maybe…” Hadvar stared into his cup, watching the ripples settle. He shook his head sharply and ran his fingers through his hair, “What am I thinking, introductions!” He placed his hand on Katia’s shoulder, rocking her softly. “This is Katia, the brave girl who helped me.”

 

“Hello,” The man reached across the table and stuck his hand out, “My name’s Alvor, I’m the smith around here.” His hands were rough and calloused, his grip was tight, a little too tight.

 

“And I’m Sigrid,” The woman chimed in. “It is so nice to meet you. Were you on patrol with Hadvar?”

 

“Wha?” Katia looked at her quizzically. She noticed she was still wearing imperial armor. “Oh, n-no, I just found this armor, I was actually- uh…” Her eyes darted, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t make her sound like a criminal.

 

“She’s a traveler!” Hadvar interjected. “She was visiting Helgen at the time, curious about all the commotion with so many Imperial soldiers.”

 

“I see,” Sigrid said, turning back to the cooking pot. “Oh, won’t you stay for supper, dear? I knew it was a good idea to add an extra steak.”

 

“Oh, n-no, thank you,” Katia lifted her hands in front of her, though her stomach growled painfully, she still felt the hospitality was undeserved.

 

“Nonsense,” Hadvar said, passing her a tankard. “I know you must be starved and thirsty. Drink.”

 

She was about to say something else, but her stomach cut her off, the smell of the stew had caused her hunger to surge. Reluctantly she complied and took a sip from the tankard, the cool water washed over her dry tongue and throat, nothing had ever felt more refreshing.

 

“And the two of you are absolutely filthy,” Sigrid continued, filling a few wooden bowls with a ladle full of stew, “A bath after dinner, no is not an answer.” She pointed the ladle at Katia before she could say anything. “I should have a gown that’ll fit you, dear. You wash first, since you’re, well, I’m going to assume that blood is from wild wolves.”

 

Katia looked herself over; she had forgotten about the blood that she got covered with, as well as the spider guts and mud from the cave.

 

Sigrid began setting the bowls on the table, Dorthe pushed her chair into its proper position and leaned close to Hadvar. “So, you really saw a dragon? What was it like? Was it like the stories? Did it have big teeth and claws?”

 

“Dorthe,” her mother snapped, “Your cousin is exhausted, along with his friend, just look at them, leave your pestering for later.”

 

Dorthe moaned and placed her chin on the table, pouting dramatically. She looked up into Katia’s eyes and began to smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Khajiit in person before.” She said, “Just drawings.”

 

Katia chuckled awkwardly and took a gulp from her tankard. “Me neither.” She mumbled into her water.

 

“So, do you have claws?” She swung her head under the table and sat back up, “Can you move your tail?”

 

“Dorthe,” Her father spoke this time, “What did your mother just say?”

 

“She said no to dragons!”

 

“You’re on your way to a sore bottom,” He threatened, pointing a stern finger at her.

 

Once again Dorthe placed her chin on the table with the same exaggerated pout. Katia taped the table to get her attention, then flexed her fingers, extending her claws, which were relatively dull, her ma used to make her clip them short. Dorthe smiled brightly and watched as Katia raised her tail behind her. Katia couldn’t help but smile.

 

Sigrid placed a bowl of stew in front of Katia and one in the empty space on the table. Together, the five of them started eating. It tasted great, some kind of blend of leeks with garlic, and the potatoes were just right. Katia was trying to polite at first, but her hunger overwhelmed and she began to shovel it into her mouth.

 

“We’re going to need a place to sleep,” Hadvar spoke between bites. “If I remember well enough the tavern here is a bit on the costly side, an neither of us have any coin on us.”

 

“Oh, of course,” Sigrid said. “We still have your old bed, and Dorthe can sleep between us, Katia can use hers.”

 

“That’s truly unnecessary,” Katia replied, “I don’t want to be a bother-“

 

“What is with this girl?” Alvor chortled, “Were you raised by saints? Where else would you sleep tonight, the woods? I don’t know where you hail from, but in Skyrim it gets cold at night, very cold, better to stay indoors.”

 

Katia was a little taken aback, she smiled meekly and thanked them for their hospitality.

 

“Any friend of Hadvar is a friend of us as well.” Sigrid stated.

 

 

The basement seemed to be mostly for storage of vegetables and ales, a few pieces of broken furniture laid against the walls along with some very misshapen pieces of metal. Sigrid dragged a wooden tub to the center of the room and placed various washing tools next to it. She poured a bucket of boiling water into the tub, and then walked out to fetch another. Katia tested the water; far too hot, of course.

 

“Now, give me your clothes,” Sigrid said, stepping back down the stairs, “And I’ll wash them for you. Although, they look pretty worn down… Maybe you could swap them out for something fresh at the shop.”

 

Katia complied and stripped down, handing the soiled armor to Sigrid. She waited a minute for the water to cool, then dipped her toe in. She sank down slowly, the warm water felt very relaxing against her sore muscles, the steam clearing her nose. She began to scrub herself with the soap and brush when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye, someone crouching on the stairs.

 

“Psst, hey,” Dorthe whispered, peering out from between a step. “So, what was it like? The dragon?”

 

Katia settled herself in the tub and leaned back, relaxing against the rim. She closed her eyes lightly and relaxed her body. “It was… big.” She said, picturing the beast in her head. “Black, blacker than charcoal, with wings for arms. It’s… eyes…” The beasts eyes appeared in her mind, they seemed to pierce through her imagination, like she could still feel it glaring at her. She snapped her eyes open and sat up sharply. “It’s eyes were red, and, it’s as if they looked right through you.” She recalled to her view from the chopping block, the way it starred deep into her, she felt like it’s gaze alone could kill.

 

“Wow, that must’ve been scary,” Dorthe said, excitement seemed to drain as she realized Katia’s horror. “Even cousin Hadvar was afraid of it.”

 

“Y-yeah,” Katia stammered, closing her eyes and trying to wipe the image from her mind. “It was… terrifying.”

 

They sat silent for a few seconds, after which Dorthe broke it. “So, you’re part cat or something, right? Do you still have-“

 

“Child!” Sigrid yelled to her from somewhere upstairs, “I am a few seconds from beating your bum with a wood spoon!”

 

Dorthe’s eyes widened before she took off, leaving Katia in piece with her own thoughts. She leaned back and relaxed again, rubbing her arms with the sweet smelling soap.

 

After she was done washing Sigrid came back down and handed her a large wool cloth to dry herself with as well as a change of loose fitting clothes. Katia helped drain the water by tipping the tub into the bucket, then dumping it out into the river. Sigrid called it was Hadvar’s turn and led Katia to her bed, a sight which had never looked so inviting. It was placed in the corner of the main room, layered with animal pelts and hay with a large bear pelt blanket. She laid down on the bed, her eyes feeling heavy as the exhaustion swept over her. Sigrid blew out a candle that was illuminating her corner then left her in peace. Everyone else settled for the night, all the candles were blown out and the fire was left to burn itself out so it may warm into the night. Though she felt exhaustion, she was reluctant to close her eyes and relax for too long; for every time she did she felt as though the blood red eyes of the dragon were glaring at her from somewhere in the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, absolutely new to this site and this kind of work. I would like full criticism of my work, but no personal attacks or anything that isn't constructive.


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